I'm marching
One cannot ignore agony of settlers slated for evacuation, Arieh Eldad writes
After the state budget was approved, including the NIS 2.5 billion earmarked for funding the uprooting and expulsion known as “disengagement,” and after the referendum bill proposal was rejected by the Knesset, it appears there is nothing left to do in the parliamentary arena.
The struggle against the plan is moving to the people, the roads, and to the communities' fences on evacuation day.
The “Evacuation-Compensation” law includes draconian clauses that aim to limit the freedom of speech and the right to protest against the process, while any presence there after the date declared by the military commander is punishable by up to three years in prison.
Protest and objection would not be allowed. One would be forbidden from holding on to his doorpost and saying: I am not moving from here.
No more hope
This situation presents many dangers. Thousands may feel they are denied the right to speak up and that there is no democratic way to change the process and prevent the majority from trampling over the minority and its rights.
The decision not to hold a national pullout referendum denied thousands of settlers the last hope that in a democratic process the people may to speak their mind.
Thousands of Jews can no longer sleep at night. They lie in the dark with their eyes open and in their minds they visualize soldiers dragging their children out of their homes and Hamas murderers dancing on their rooftops after the evacuation.
In their minds, they see Islamic Jihad terrorists hold up flags over their public buildings. They see the bones of loved ones being dug out of graves and think about how they will have to rebury them.
Thousands of Jews lie in their beds at night in Gush Katif and the northern Gaza Strip and northern Samaria, sleepless. They see the disaster nearing.
One cannot stand by and wait for a catastrophe.
One cannot ignore those slated for expulsion and the horrible agony they go through, the humiliation and expulsion about to hit them and ruin their life work.
I cannot ignore them.
I'm hitting the road
Hence, I'm hitting the road. I will leave my new home, in the northern Samaria community of Sa-Nur and walk to Mevo Dotan. The next day I will walk to Shaked. On the third and forth day, via Wadi Ara and the communities of the Ta’anach region in northern Israel, I will walk to Ganim and Kadim.
From there I will head west and south, to all the communities slated for expulsion, uprooting and destruction, and all the Seam Line communities in range of Qassam rockets, where residents’ lives are about to change.
I will also visit all the small towns and cities on the way.
We'll travel on foot. We will be 10 in the first day, 50 in the second day, and perhaps by the end of the first week, many, many more. Everywhere we go, we will speak to the people, listen to them, be with those intended for expulsion and those who reside by the Seam Line, where homes will be covered with reinforced concrete, and shelters and alarm systems will be installed in kindergartens.
I hope anyone who feels we must not sit idly by and wait for the planned catastrophe - will join this move. Even those who support the “disengagement,” but know that we need to hug all those whose worlds are about to be ruine, they, too, will join.
This will not be an organized demonstration, there will be no organized bus rides, chemical toilets or amplifiers. However, this initiative may present the last opportunity for a non-violent protest, a legitimate battle over public opinion.
